The Mess of a Wedding Dress
by kissa621
Summary: How the Epilogue of Eclipse should have gone. Bella runs to Jake when she realizes that she's not ready to get married to Edward yet. My recipe for a one-shot: a dash of angst, a pinch of lemon, and bowl full of Jacob. Yum.


The first paragraph is taken straight out of Eclipse, written and owned by Stephanie Meyer. This is just the way I would have ended things. :D

* * *

"_Jake, we only have the one table," Billy said. He was staring at my left hand._

_My fingers were clamped down on the wood hard enough that it really was in danger. I loosened them one by one, concentrating on that action alone, and then clenched my hands together so I couldn't break anything._

"_Yeah, doesn't really matter anyway," Billy muttered. _

_I got up from the table, shrugging out of my t-shirt as I stood. Hopefully Leah had gone home by now. _

"_Not too late," Billy mumbled as I punched the front door out of my way. _

I stop dead in my tracks before I even hit the stairs, the door slamming shut behind me with a repetitive bang.

Since the moment I recognized the invitation, a hollow wail has been screeching in my ears; the sound of my heart screaming as it shatters, distracting me. I'm not able to concentrate on anything. Everything around me sounds distant, like the noise is coming from the end of a tunnel. I didn't hear her ancient truck as it approached. I didn't hear the door slam or even the rustle of the fabric of the dress. But I can hear it now. I can hear her heart pounding away in her chest as she stands there in front of me with her cheeks flushed. I can hear the soft pants of her breathing through those parted, rose-colored lips and every rustle of that expensive, stiff _wedding dress_.

Her beautiful mahogany hair is windblown, the curls lying wildly against her pale shoulders and contrasting against the sheer white fabric of the dress. Despite her worried expression and her perfect teeth biting into her plump lip so hard it's turning white, I've never seen an image so beautiful.

"Jake," her soft voice calls out to me, rivaling an angel's.

My heart pounds erratically in my chest, and my mouth has gone bone dry. I can't speak. I can't move, even if I wanted to. I know that I have to take a deliberate breath soon or I'll pass out. I stopped breathing the moment I laid eyes on her.

"Jake… I… I… I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm sorry… I shouldn't be here. I'll go." She turns swiftly, her dress rustling and twisting; the huge skirt tangles around her legs, causing her to trip straight into the dirt. Something about that fall snaps the shock out of me. As she leaps up, rushing to open the door to her truck, I lunge forward, slamming it back closed.

Her eyes stay locked on her hands, still grasping at the door handle. Her heavy breathing matches my own as I stare down at her, her crisp, white gown now dusted brown with dirt. My hand stays splayed out on the window while a subconscious voice warns me to be careful and not to shatter the glass.

I stare at the gorgeous creature in front of me, my heart screeching in pain from her actions. A heavy weight presses down on my chest, making it difficult to breathe; my stomach twists with fear.

_She's hurt me so many times_. _Will_ _I offer her the chance to hurt me again?_

I know I have to speak, to say something, so I say the only thing I can.

"Why?" I'm not even sure which question I'm asking. _Why are you here? Why are you doing this to me? Why did you choose him? Why not me? Why wasn't I enough?_

Without taking her eyes away from her hands, she whispers, "I'm sorry; I'm so sorry, Jake." Her lip quivers as she fights for composure. "I just couldn't do it anymore. Alice was so excited. She put me in this dress and told me how much I was going to love-" Her voice catches on the word. With a forceful swallow she continues, "She saw it - that I loved it - in one of her visions, and when I looked at myself, I _knew_." Her brows knit together. "It was a lie. All of it. It was all a lie."

My heart leaps up into my throat as I force my mind to stop racing with the possibilities of what this means. This girl has hurt me. _So many times_. She's broken my heart, then ripped out the shattered pieces and stomped all over them. I can't let her do this to me again. I can't let her give me hope just to take it away again.

"I realized that even Alice's visions aren't always true. I lied to her in those visions. I lied to her when they came true. I was lying to myself." Her voice drops lower, as if she's ashamed to be telling me this, as if it's some kind of dirty secret, "I hate the dress, Jake." Her watery eyes finally turn to mine. "I hate the dress, the wedding colors, the flowers, the invitations," her voice rises with each item, "I hate everything about it!"

Her unshed tears begin streaming down her face, and I fight the urge to wrap her into my arms, to wipe away those tears and kiss away her pain.

"I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to lie anymore. This," she waves her hand down her dress, "isn't me. None of it is me."

"I know."

Confusion lights her eyes at my statement. She doesn't know that I've received her invitation. She doesn't know her bloodsucker fiancé sent it. She doesn't know that I've seen the thick paper, the layers of floral print, and the extravagant script. I know she had no part in this wedding; I could tell from just one glance that she had nothing to do with it - that she _would_ hate it.

"I don't want to lie anymore, Jake." Her eyes fall to the dirt. "I know this isn't fair to you; I have no right to ask this, but… can I stay here? For a little while? It's the only place that Alice and Edward can't follow me. I just- I just need to think."

I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to jump for joy and thank the heavens that she's returned to me. That she's run out on Edward and come here. She's finally distanced herself away from that manipulating asshole. But another part of me, a bigger part of me, is angry. She didn't come here for me, to tell me she was wrong and loves me more, that I'm finally enough for her. She came here to hide. I'm about to tell her no, to go back where she came from and face her problems head on, but another voice speaks up behind me, surprising us both.

How did this keep happening? I've been so distracted with her confessions I didn't even notice my father rolling out onto the porch.

"Of course, Bella. You know you're always welcome here. Come on in; I'll make you some tea." The old man smiles gently like he's talking to a scared animal, and in a way, I guess he is. Bella turns her eyes up to mine, silently asking if it's okay. I drop my hand from her truck and step aside by way of answer.

She gathers up the layers of her thick skirt, the dusty fabric bunching and rustling as she walks up the porch steps; her red and white sneakers poke out the bottom. Billy nods her into the house but stays outside as she enters. I follow her only to be stopped by my dad's cool hand encircling my wrist.

"This is an answered prayer, Jake," he says quietly, "Don't push her. She's asking for time." _Time_. A simple word, a simple request; it's all that I've asked from her, all I wanted. She has all of eternity to be with her bloodsucker, if that's what she wants. What are a few more hours, days, months, or years? If I had the time, I could show her. I could be all she needs. I'm flesh and blood, I'm breathing, and I have a heart, a soul.

She wouldn't have to change for me. I'll let her be herself. I'll let her do anything she wants, and _her_ way. I'd never try to force her into marriage; I would never manipulate her to be with me or make her choose _death_ over _life_.

I nod to Billy, silently walking inside. Bella sits on the couch, the full skirt of the dress taking up the expanse of the cushions; the many layers are bunched up around her, and still, it pools over her tennis-shoed feet. I want to smile, to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but I can't. She's holding her head in her hands, her chest rising and falling with her labored breaths. She's exuding every bit of the emotional aguish she's feeling. I would hold her, comfort her if I could, if I wasn't feeling the exact same way.

True to his word, Billy begins heating a kettle of water on the stove. I make my way to the wall opposite of her, leaning against it, and I do nothing but stare. The minutes tick by like seconds; I'm lost in my own thoughts, my own pain, and I don't even realize the old man has come back into the room until he's pressing a warm cup of tea into my hand. He rolls over to Bella, passing her one of the two cups from the tray on his lap. She cradles the warm mug to her chest as if she's trying to absorb its heat.

We're a perfect triangle in the small room, each of us sipping on our tea. No one bothers to speak, letting the warm substance soothe our souls first.

"Bella?" my father ventures, his gruff voice lowered and soothing, "would you like me to call Charlie? Maybe bring you a change of clothes?"

Bella's eyes follow his words to my father's face, though they don't seem to focus on him; they seem a million miles away. It's the look she gets when she's too deep in thought to emerge, when she's closed in on herself, and not allowing anyone in but thinks that no one notices how distant she is. I know this look well. I've seen it for months. I coaxed it out of her using warm sodas and motorcycle pieces. I fixed her broken heart by piecing parts of her back together over time; the same way I did the motorbikes. She was mine then. She'd fallen in love with me all those months ago, but she was just too damn stubborn to see it.

"No," Bella replies, her tone devoid of any true emotion, "He thinks I'm staying the night with Alice. Besides, I don't think I could deal with one of his talks right now." She sniffs. "He'd be only too happy to say 'I told you so.'" Her eyes shift to mine, a sudden fear in them. Does she think that I'd tell her 'I told you so'?

"I could," my voice scratches like I haven't talked in years, "try to find you something in my drawers. I might have some old sweatpants or something you could fit into."

She looks down into the mug on her lap, nodding. A new tear falls from her cheek to the dust-covered dress, mingling to create a drop of mud. That dress is officially ruined. For the first time today, I smile. Well, half smile.

I return shortly with a pair of sweatpants and a middle school t-shirt with the picture of our tribal killer whale. I stop in the hallway with the shirt and pants folded neatly in the palm of my hand and offer them to Bella. One look at the clothing, and her eyes light up anew; my heart swells a little at the sight. She's relieved to be getting out of the dress, relieved that I'm giving her some clothing, and possibly glad that I'm helping her at all.

"Thank you," she whispers, taking the clothes, and her cold hand brushes against my warm one, sending a delicious chill up my spine. "Not just for the clothes. You didn't have to help me, Jake. I'm glad you did, but I don't deserve it."

"You deserve it and more," I reply.

The ridiculously large wedding dress shoves against my legs as Bella maneuvers around me, the skirt taking up the entire hallway. It has to weigh somewhere around thirty pounds. It's a wonder she can wear it at all. The bathroom door shuts with a resounding click.

"This is good, son, this is good." Billy's voice holds too much enthusiasm for me; his hope will only refuel my own, and that's something that I can't allow myself to do. She chose him once; she could choose him again.

"I don't know, Dad." Rubbing my eyes, my cheeks, and my hair doesn't lessen my tension at all. I'm nervous as hell as to what Bella's thinking. I should be happy that she's rethinking the marriage, but she never said she'd leave the leech, just that she wanted time away from him to think. This could just be a momentary lapse, a few minutes of cold feet before she runs back into his arms, and my heart's the one that hangs in the balance. "This might not mean anything."

"No, don't you see? She came here, Jake. She came running to you! She was having doubts about the wedding, and instead of telling her fiancé, the one she should be running to, she came to you! What does that tell you?"

"It tells me to quit being the schmuck that always lets her in. She doesn't love me the way I love her. She's made that loud and clear. I'm just the best friend, the shoulder to cry on."

"No. She's finally figuring this out. She's realizing that this isn't going to be the fantasy wedding that she's dreamed about since she was a little girl. Girl's do that you know; your sisters dressed up as brides from the ages of three to ten. When Rebecca got married, it was all she could talk about for months, and she was the same age that Bella is now. The difference is that Rebecca was ready for it. She was so in love she couldn't wait any longer. But Bella, she's finally figuring out that she's been pressured into something she's not ready for. If she was truly in love with Edward, she'd be having the wedding of her dreams, and she certainly wouldn't be here asking for more time!"

I slump down into the old recliner, hanging my head in my hands. "What am I supposed to do? Convince her she's not in love with him? That she's in love with me? She knows that! But it's not enough. She told me it wasn't enough!"

"Getting married isn't just about being man and wife. The bigger issues come to play in your mind too, like where you're going to live until you can afford to buy a house, where you're going to work, and when you're going to start a family. Can the Cullens offer her that? Can they offer her a real life? They can give her eternity and money, but they can't give her a life of a married woman if she's repeating high school every day. They can't give her a family outside the seven of them. They can't give her a baby.

"I think she's finally starting to realize everything and everyone she's going to have to give up, including _you_."

My sensitive ears perk up at the sound of an engine pulling into our driveway; a car horn repetitively honks. My eyebrows rise, questioning Billy.

"There's my ride," he cheers, "I called Sue when I was in the kitchen. We're going to Charlie's, maybe order a pizza for dinner. That'll give you two some time to talk things out."

A minute after the door swings shut behind him, the bathroom door opens a crack. "Ja-Jake," a tentative voice calls out. I stand slowly, mechanically walking toward the bathroom where Bella's small frame is peeking out behind the door.

"I need some help." Her face flushes crimson as my mind reels. _What could she possibly be blushing for? What does she need help with? _

"My dress, it buttons in the back. I tried twisting it, but the top is too tight. I can't get it to budge."

"Sure, sure, no problem."

She opens the door further to allow me inside, shutting it behind us.

"You didn't have to shut the door, Bells. Billy just left."

"Oh, oh, good," she sighs. Upon noticing my questioning glance, she clarifies, "No, I mean, I was worried if he saw you come in here, he might think something… and I just don't want him to get the wrong impression."

"It's okay, Bells; I understand," I tel her even though I don't. _Would it really be so bad? You being with me?_ "Turn around."

She does, the dress twisting with her. I try not to step on the bottom of it, but I think it's an impossible task. Looking at the row of buttons, I bite back a groan. I hadn't noticed them before. They start in the middle of her back, flowing tightly one on top of another all the way down, accenting her the curve of her ass.

Biting down on my lip, I slip my fingers under the bodice, relishing the feeling of her creamy smooth skin beneath my knuckles. I've never been so conflicted in all my life. These buttons are a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I'm in heaven; all of these buttons give me a reason to touch Bella, to brush my fingers down her spine slowly, sensually caressing her as I go. But on the other hand, it's pure torture; Bella isn't mine. She doesn't want me, no matter how much I want her.

It takes time to unhook each button; it's a complicated process. My large hands fumble with the small elastic bands; with my strength I could easily pop each one, but I try not to. I inch my way closer to her; my moist breath brushing against her bare shoulder makes her shudder. I can hear and see Bella's breathing pick up pace; her heart starts thumping a little bit harder and faster as I move my body slightly closer to hers. I know she can feel the heat radiating off of me, warming her bare back while my hot fingers nimbly work and stroke her silky smooth skin. Half way down her back, I have a realization.

I still haven't seen a bra strap.

The thought goes straight to my groin. My pants grow tighter as I try to think of anything but Bella's bare, white breasts under the dress. Her hands are folded across her stomach, holding the dress in place. Against my every desire, the dress would most likely not be pooling around her feet when I finish the buttons and exposing those bare beauties.

I have moved down to the lowest buttons; the ones that curve outward along with her miraculous ass. As my fingers slip below the fabric, I'm met with another sensation. Instead of smooth skin, my fingers brush against - and accidentally inside - lace.

A small but audible gasp escapes from Bella though she makes no move to stop me. With a mind of their own, the tips of my fingers rub against the lace, allowing my nails and knuckles to sweep the skin beneath her underwear. Brushing softly from side to side, I use my thumbs to unhook the next button, revealing the black color of the sheer underwear. With much effort, I unhook the next button, opening the dress a little wider, and yet keeping the tips of my fingers along the band. The perfect "V" shape of the unbuttoned dress is like an arrow, causing my groin to swell appreciatively. The sheer, black lace covers the whole area I can see, which leads me to believe that this pair is see-through all over. I have to bite back a growl.

Much to my dismay, there are only three buttons left, ending on the vertex of her rump. With forced effort, I remove my fingers, sliding them down to the apex of her two cheeks. Her body tenses, though she still doesn't move or ask me to stop. I'm sure I've gotten enough of the buttons by now that she could easily remove the dress, but I'm nothing if not thorough. I have every intention of unbuttoning those last three buttons.

I'm working slower than I had been before. Bella's breath is coming out in sharp pants, her heart beating at a pace that could rival a rabbit's. My own breathing is labored, and my erection strains against the zipper of my jeans, dying to get out. I run my fingers down the divot of her rear, eliciting a break out of goosebumps on Bella's flesh. I'm down to one more button. No matter how I try to stall, I can't make this moment last forever. Bella isn't mine. She doesn't know what she wants or who she wants. But she isn't mine. Not yet.

With one last flick of my fingers, I'm done. She stands still long enough for me to run my hands back up her spine to her neck. Her long mahogany hair is brushed over one shoulder, baring the other one to me. I want to lean down and kiss it. I want to brush my lips across the expanse of her shoulder to her neck, then up to her hairline and across her cheek to her lips. But I can't. No matter how much I yearn for it, she isn't mine. My heart burns with the denial.

"All done," my voice rasps. I step back, careful not to stand on the twisted train. As I move around her, our bare arms brush against each other.

As I start to open the bathroom door, Bella's soft voice rings out. "Jake, wait."

I turn, and my pained eyes catch hers. She gasps softly. One arm crosses her chest, clutching tightly to the neckline of her strapless dress; her other hand raises up, reaching for me. She steps forward, and her hand wraps around my neck, pulling me down. Her cool lips meet mine softly, tentatively. Encircling my arms around her, my hands grasp at her bare back as I pull her closer. I urge the kiss to passionate, and she complies. Our lips move against one another's synchronously. Surprise overtakes me as I feel Bella's mouth open first, her tongue requesting entrance. I grant it willingly, and my hands move in opposite directions - one finds the lace of her bottoms, resting on the curve of her rear, as the other migrates into her hair. That's when I realize she's using two hands as well, one grasping at the hair on the nape of my neck and the other running a trail down my chest to my abs.

The dress's skirt is far too big for me to crush my body against hers; our upper bodies are leaning towards each other but not flush against one another's. Strategically, I move my arm from her rear up slightly until I feel the fabric of the dress fall away, collapsing in on itself at our feet. Bella and I groan simultaneously. Pulling her closer, I press her body against mine. We kiss with a new ardor, her chest heaving with mine. She whimpers as she feels my hardened member press against her stomach.

"Take me to your bed," she murmurs against my lips. My shock is nothing compared to my passion as I lift her knees up, carrying her out the door and across the hall to my room. I continue kissing her with every ounce of love and adoration that I can offer.

Gently laying her on the bed, I move to hover over her never letting my eyes roam down her body - not that I don't want to see it; it's taking every fiber of my being to refrain from looking down at her - but I want her to know this means more to me than that. I'm not just a teenager who wants to see her naked.

I'm in love with her. I love her with all that I have, all that I am. I want to be with her, only her, forever and always.

Her hands gingerly move down to my waist, pulling and bunching up my t-shirt to make her intentions clear. I raise one hand behind my neck, pull it free in one easy step, and throw it across the room. Bella's bare breasts feel phenomenal against my chest. I can't stop my hands from making their way to her soft mounds, finally touching the smooth swells of her breasts. My thumb slides across her delicate nipple, extracting a moan from my Bells. _My Bells._

Her hands roam down my chest and abs, her nails raking across the contours of my muscles. I let out a sound similar to a purr. Her lips move to my shoulder, kissing, sucking, and licking. My own lips make a path down her neck to her collar bone, then further still to the valley of her breasts, moving my lips around one curve. I slowly lick around the flesh of her breast then slide up, taking her sweet bud into my mouth.

Her moans send a shockwave through my body while my tongue laps and flicks at her breasts, coaxing the sounds of pleasure out of her. This moment feels amazing; it feels so good that I can't imagine ever leaving her, or letting her leave me. The thought of her leaving me shoots a stab of pain into my heart. Squeezing my eyes shut, I search for Bella's lips, kissing her with a new force, a new urgency and passion - one begging her not to go, not to leave me again. _Never leave me again!_

"Jake?"

My swollen lips remove themselves from hers. Her hand cautiously cups my cheek.

"What's wrong?" She runs her fingers across my cheekbone, and I feel the wetness smear. I had no idea that I was even crying.

Dropping my head down, I burrow into her hair. "Please, Bells," I beg.

"Please what?" she coos into my ear, brushing her nails soothingly along my scalp.

"Please don't go," I choke out.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says reassuringly, but I can hear the hesitance in her voice. _She's lying_.

"No, Bells, I can't." I squeeze her to me tighter, physically begging her to stay with me. "I can't go through this again. If he's it for you, then…I can't watch you walk away from me and into his arms again. You gotta know," I can't stop my voice from breaking, "how much that kills me." She _has_ to know. Doesn't she? Has she ever stopped to think about how her actions affect me? She knows I love her. She knows how hard I tried to get her to love me too, but did she ever really think about me? And the heartache that I went through - the feelings that I have - at seeing her with my enemy? When she's happily in love with that - that sparkly douchebag, does she ever consider that I'm all alone here, dreaming of being with her, wanting to kill myself over her because I'm not enough! Because my love for her is never good enough!

"Jake." Her breath hitches, and her chest tightens; she's crying now. "I know what it feels like; I do. When Ed - when he left me all those months-"

I pull away from her angrily, sitting with my back to her half naked form. "No, Bella! Don't you dare compare this to him! This is nothing like what that leech did to you! Yeah, he left you, he told you he didn't love you, but he left you _alone_. He didn't leave you for somebody else!" I'm screaming now, pacing the small length of my bedroom while Bella lays wide-eyed on my too-small bed with the sheets pulled up around her chest. "You didn't have to watch his happily ever after! You didn't have to see him give the love that should have been yours to someone else! He never told you how happy he was with that other person, like you did to me. He never told you how complete they made him feel, and he sure as hell didn't tell you he loved you but it wasn't enough to change anything!

"How would you have felt, Bella? What would you have done if you'd received his wedding invitation? I can tell you how I feel; I want to die."

My knees buckle, giving way beneath me. I land hard on the floor in front of her, my head hanging into my hands. I sob harder. "Why, Bella? Why am I not enough?"

"Jake, oh, Jake, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I'm a crumpled mess on the floor, listening to the mattress springs squeaking as Bella crawls off the bed. I can't look at her. Her hands timidly reach for me, barely brushing against my hair, as if she's petting a wild animal, scared that I might snap at her. Instinctually, I lean into her touch.

"Please don't talk like that; don't talk about dying. I don't think I could- No," she says, her voice growing firmer, "I _know_ I couldn't live in a world without you."

"I'm sorry, Bells; I know that I told you I'd fight for you until your heart stops beating, but I can't anymore. I just _can't_. I won't survive you leaving me again. It was too hard last time. If it wasn't for Sam's order, I would have-" I stop, realizing what I'm saying. I didn't mean to say that out loud; I didn't mean for her to know. I never wanted her to know about that day. _How broken I really had become._

"Sam's order for what?" Her voice pitches, laced with panic. I really don't want to tell her. I really don't want her to know. I duck away from her touch, avoiding her question entirely.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." I deflect her attempts to look in my eyes.

"What did he do to you? What did he make you do? Did he hurt you?"

I bristle at the way she talks about Sam. Like him or not, he's still my Alpha. Why does she always get so defensive of me with him? He isn't a bad guy.

"No, Bells, Sam didn't hurt me."

"Then why won't you tell me what he did to you?"

"Because he stopped me from killing myself over you!" Jesus, I need to learn to keep my mouth shut! She lets out a loud gasp. I don't dare look at her. I know the shock and disgust on her face will be enough to make me sick. A heavy silence falls over the room, and then Bella pushes past me, running into the bathroom.

I follow, tripping over a few various items in my haste to get to her. She sits with her knees tucked into her chest, the single sheet still wrapped tightly around her middle, and her head rests on her bare knees. She hasn't thrown up, but it's clear that she thought she was about to.

"Jesus." It hurts me to look at her like this, to know that I caused this pain. God, what I wouldn't give to go back in time, go back to five minutes ago when we were making out like the teenagers we are. "I'm sorry, Bells. I didn't mean to tell you like that. I don't want to hurt you."

"What if I lost you?" she whispers into her knees.

I move next to her, tucking her head beneath my chin and pulling her into my lap. Why does it seem like we're always comforting each other? Why is it always so painful?

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

"Oh, Jacob!" she wails. Fresh, hiccupping sobs violently fight to escape her small body. "I'm such an idiot! When I left that day, I cried for hours; I cried my heart out to Edward all night - so much that he asked me if I was making the right decision. And I told him I was," a tortured whine escapes me, "I told him I knew which one of you I couldn't live without," _this is it, this is the part where she rips out my heart_, "but I was wrong."

"_What_?" I pull her back so I can look into her eyes.

"I survived without him. It was hard, but I did it… because I had you. I have Edward now, and I'm still finding my way back to you. When I'm with you, I feel happier, lighter. I'm better because of you. I thought I wanted an eternity with Edward, but the truth is…I can't imagine eternity without you. I don't want to. I can't survive without you, Jake. You're my sun."

I'm too scared to move, to blink; terrified that losing eye contact will cause her to change her mind. My breath is coming out in pants while my heart pounds against my chest. _Is she choosing me?_

Her hands cup my cheeks, tilting her forehead to mine, and she whispers, "I love you, Jake. I want to be with you." Then she kisses me tenderly.

She stands up slowly, removing her engagement ring and setting it down on the bathroom counter in one prolonged movement. Taking my hand in hers, she pulls me up, deliberately stepping on the discarded wedding dress. She leads me back into my bedroom and sits down on the edge of the bed. She locks her eyes with mine and begins unbuttoning my jeans. My hands, shakily, rise to her shoulders, caressing the soft skin around her collar bone and sliding down to tug open the sheet and then let it drop around her. It's the first view I've had of her half naked body, and it's perfect.

Her fingers grip the sides of my jeans, carefully pulling them down to my ankles. I step out of them, unashamed of my nakedness. Her cheeks flame as she looks at me, as I knew they would the first time.

Her hands move to the contours of my hips, following the line between my abs. Her fingertips run across my chest to my biceps, pulling me down as she lays back.

Never taking my eyes off hers, I trace my fingers across her cheek, neck, breasts and stomach until they reach the last, lacy barrier between us. Hooking my fingers under the lace, I sweep them down her smooth legs, slowly brushing every inch of skin on the way down. My eyes leave hers as I kiss my way back up her body; her ankle, knee, thigh, hipbone, ribs, breast and neck, until I'm finally back to her luscious lips. My hands explore her body as hers explore mine. She moans when I grasp her breasts but moans louder when I squeeze her hips and ass. Running my hand down her thigh, I grip her knee, hitching it up around my waist.

"Yes," she sighs. My body ignites as I feel her slick core rub against me. My fingers trace their way between us of their own accord. She moans in gratitude when I press against her heat, sliding two fingers up and down the slit.

"Jake, yes," she whispers, encouraging me to continue. Concentrating on her breathing, I slip my fingers inside of her. She lets out a soft gasp of surprise but begins kissing me with a new fervor until her panting breaths pull her away from me. Winding her fingers into my hair, she clutches tighter, her back arching into me and her center rocking against my hand. On instinct, I pull her breast into my mouth, nipping gently at the soft bud. She explodes, constricting instantly around my fingers.

"That was so beautiful," I murmur into her ear.

"Make love to me, Jake."

I search her face, not bothering to cover my surprised expression and questioning eyes. She shifts beneath me, positioning me at her entrance.

"Please," she adds.

Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her, hard and long, giving her a few seconds to be sure; giving her the time to change her mind, but she doesn't do it. She encourages me further, wrapping her legs around my hips and pressing me into her. I gasp at the feeling.

Slowly, I slide into her, pressing butterfly kisses everywhere I can reach. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and her eyebrows scrunch together in pain. I lean forward, kissing the wrinkles away until we're finally moving as one.

It's beautiful, it's amazing, and it's everything that I ever dreamed it could be and more. My body is trembling from the sensations, my arms shake slightly and my lips quiver. Bella's breathing matches my own as our bodies work together, rocking and gyrating in perfect harmony. Her breathing intensifies, signaling that she's ready. A chant falls from my lips, _I love you, I love you, I love you_, pushing her over the edge. I follow shortly after.

We lay silently together, tangled in the sheets with our legs intertwined and her cheek resting on my shoulder.

"I love you," she whispers. I can't help but smile and kiss her hair. But the feeling of apprehension soon overpowers me.

"Are you really mine?" I whisper so softly I'm not even sure she can hear me.

"What about imprinting?" she whispers back just as quietly. My stomach knots, and a cold chill runs through my body, weakening me.

"Answer my question first." I swear my heart stops beating while I wait on her answer. Every particle of my body feels like it's on pins and needles. I fight my arms not to squeeze her tighter and hold her to me.

"Yes," she finally answers, "Even if you imprint, I'll be yours until then."

"I'm not going to imprint on anyone else, Bella. I _can't_."

"You don't know that," she replies.

Placing my fingers under her chin, I guide her gaze to mine. "I do… because I imprinted on _you_."

"What? When?"

I want to chuckle at the adorable expression on her face, but honestly, I feel too guilty.

"The first time I saw you after I phased." No point in bringing up that leech with the dreads. "I never told you, and I lied when you asked because I wanted you to love me for me. I couldn't handle the thought of you being with me because you felt obligated for the imprint. I was so scared that if I told you sooner you'd think I was lying to get you to be with me or one day come to resent me for it."

"So…" She pauses, her brows wrinkling in deep thought. I almost panic when she doesn't continue after a beat. "You mean you're mine? Totally and completely mine?"

All the tension releases from my body as I laugh – _happily _- for the first time in months.

"Yes, I'm yours, and you are all _mine_," I growl, rolling on top of her and kissing her deeply. We make love again and again until my stomach is growling louder than our moans.

We order a pizza, have a carpet picnic on the floor of my bedroom, and playfully feed each other. We find our way into the shower, experimenting with our newfound love and disregarding the white heap that was once a symbol of her love for another man on the floor. Afterwards, we stumble back into bed, satiated, and entangle our limbs once more.

Running my fingers through her hair, I pause. "Are you going to tell Edward?"

"Yes, I'll need to give him back his ring, though he probably already knows," she sighs, "Alice."

"We still have one more problem," I grumble.

"What?" she asks, slightly anxious.

"What are we going to do with that offending wedding dress?"

A wicked smile crosses her lips as she laughs, "Let's burn it!"

* * *

**A/N: **Okay ya'll, so how did I do for my first time? (Pun intended). I had a vision of Bella in a wedding dress one day and this is what came to mind. Hope you enjoyed it, if you did please let me know!


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